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Big Baby

I think it’s quite normal for a second pregnancy bump to be huge. I am huge. I feel huge. I think I look huge. In comparison to when I was expecting Bambina, I swear it looks like I’m carrying a football team!

A few weeks back I had to see my consultant about making a decision between a natural (give me drugs!) vaginal birth or another c-section.

Bambina was twelve days late so I was induced. Three times. It didn’t work. Eventually my waters were broken and although I had been having contractions, nothing else happened. The Italian almost electrocuted me from playing with the knobs on the TENS machine but nothing else happened. After twenty hours, I had dilated two centimetres. After a further six hours I had dilated an extra centimetre and retracted to two again.  I also had an allergic reaction to the epidural.

I was insistent I didn’t want an epidural, or pethadine, or a c-section. I had all of it. I was exhausted. I don’t recall the c-section that well, except for my legs convulsing so much that they had to strapped to the table. I don’t recall seeing Bambina that well for the first time. I just remember a blurry image of white, whether that was the towel she was wrapped in or her still covered in mucus, I don’t know.

I don’t want that experience this time around. Bambina was stuck in the birth canal as she was so huge, 10lb 4oz. The consultant thinks that this baby could be bigger given the size of me now at 29 weeks.

So, I was offered a helping hand or the chance to go it alone. If your hand is willing to help me, I’m ready to bite it off! C-section it is.

I’ve just had a GTT (Glucose Tolerance Test) to measure the amount of sugar in the blood.  This is not just for determining pregnancy related diabetes but can also be a guide as to why some mothers deliver whopping babies.  My gut feeling is that my glucose is absolutely dandy.  If you saw the Italian and his father, they’re not exactly small framed people so I think that any baby that I have will be on the large-boned side of big.  Nevertheless, I did the test and we’ll see what happens.

As I’m now on countdown with only 10 weeks to go, I’m actually looking forward to the c-section this time. I know the date, I know the plan, I know I won’t be in pain (ish).

I know that my big baby will arrive in to the world, happy, healthy and huge!

The countdown begins… !

Was your baby a whoppa? Tell me everything!

Foto

 

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8 Comments

Posted by on October 19, 2012 in London

 

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Mozzarella Heels

Shortly after I started officially dating the Italian, he went off to Italy on holiday for his nieces christening.

He called me everyday which was, I admit, very impressive. You see, that’s the thing about foreign men, they don’t hold back. There’s none of this call you in three days rule, or only call before Wednesday if you want a date at the weekend. None of that! It was so refreshing to have a net a guy who put it straight, “I’a like’a you, I think’a you’a like’a me, so’a wanna hang’a outta with’a me or no?”.

And there you have it, day calls from his holiday. Sunning himself, eating pizza, drinking Spritzers and thinking if me – bliss.

One day I couldn’t quite believe my luck. The conversation went something like this:

*phone rings, incoming call from Venice*

Him: I’a was in’a the town’a today, you’a know, and I’a saw’a the’a gorgoose pair’a shoes on’a woman’a

Me: Really? You were looking at Women’s shoes. Interesting.

Him: Yeah, I was’a in’a the town’a for’a santhin (something) and’a I saw’a those shoes and’a thought’a I’a gona get’a you’a a gift’a’

Me: Well that would be very generous, thanks, sounds lovely.

How lucky?? I had met this guy, an Italian guy, who was in Italy shoe shopping for me!! Oh the excitement, I was going to get myself a nice little pair of Prada sling backs!

A few weeks later when he returned, we made arrangements to meet up. He arrived with a box and wearing the biggest smile. That was it, I was hooked, he had me at “shoes”!

He handed over the box and I slowly unwrapped the brown paper. Peeling back the first corner I spotted a P, my heart sank – he had really bought me a pair of Prada shoes!!

I peeled back a bit more to reveal an A. Ok, odd. Slightly confused. Not Prada. I looked again, definitely not an R, it was most certainly an A. The Italian looked on with brown puppy dog eyes willing me to hurry up and open it.

I ripped back the paper to reveal a word: PALSE. To me this meant nothing. To him it meant the world. He practically jumped up and down on the spot with excitement, salivating.

Its’a from’a my’a Nonna’s village!!!!” he squeezed with delight.

“What is it?” I asked with a half cocked head

La Mozzarella!! Mozzarella Palse!! It’a was’a made’a this mornin’a..” he said waving his hands in a motion that suggested I should have known what the heck he was talking about.

Rewind. Let me digest this. Where’s the shoes?? The shoes that the stylish Italian woman in the town was wearing? The shoes that prompted you to want to buy me a gift?

Still in Italy, that’s where the shoes were. In their place, sat on my lap was a box containing four balls of mozzarella. Was I supposed to be thrilled at this concept? He wanted me to willing eat a cheese knowing that it had been the contents of a cow’s udder only hours before??

Seriously, I would have SO preferred the shoes!

This was the first of the Italian’s odd gift offerings. If you want to read how he almost blinded me with a christmas present, check out my post Amore Mio.

Red shoes, Prada

Red shoes, Prada (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

X-O-X

 
4 Comments

Posted by on May 31, 2012 in London

 

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My Boobs are BRAvellous!

Lately, I have been getting slightly involved in charity work. Which, I must confess, was never my intention when I started blogging. It hadn’t even occurred to me to be honest with you. Yet, my little blog has taken another angle. I’m still the Italian’s wife, I’m still Bambina’s mamma but I’ve found a little something that gives me a fire in the belly. For this reason, I am planning to self-host my blog so that I can dedicate a whole section of “La Mia Bella Vita” to things that I as a person, not a wife, not a mother, like and that includes my little charity endeavours. Watch this space.

I have thoroughly enjoyed being involved in the Blog it for Babies, Save the children, campaign. I have absolutely adored being a co-founder of the Blogging4Madeleine campaign with the very talented A Mummys View.

And I am already, so so so so excited about my new little venture, in support of Dirty Laundry and Breakthrough Breast Cancer.  Dirty Laundry is the brainchild of Sharon Holland Taylor. It’s a stage production covering one woman’s effort to strive for a fulfilled future after recovering from breast cancer. Along the way, she receives support from an unexpected source.  Check out the Dirty Laundry link above for more details.

Breakthrough Breast Cancer are attempting a Guinness Book world record for the longest chain of bra’s.  Each bra representing a donation from a woman who gives a toss about her knockers!

And so, without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring to you BRAvellous!!

You might want to know why I’m a bit obsessed with my melons.  I’ll tell you.  My gran died of cancer.  A few years ago my aunt had a mastectomy.  Last year, the day before my wedding whilst we were all sitting at lunch, my mother-in-law answered a call from the doctor who rang to confirm that she had a 5cm tumour in her right breast.  What was worse, as if it could get worse, was that her mother, my husbands 90-year-old grandmother, was already fighting breast cancer.

After living through the chemo, the radiotherapy, the steroids, the hair loss, the wigs (that was actually quite amusing!), I know first hand how it feels to live with the fear.  The fear that the treatment won’t work, the fear that the cancer will win, the fear that my daughter who was then in my belly would never meet her Nonna or great-Nonna.  It fills me with sheer delight to report that both women won! They fought hard and stomped all over that disease and lived to tell the tale.

To support Breakthrough Breast Cancer, I would love for you to join in my linky and write a post about what your boobies mean to you!  And this doesn’t have to be just from a woman’s point of view! Men, Dad’s, write a post of about your wife’s boobs, have they changed over the years, what was your involvement in the breastfeeding routines etc etc – boobs are for everyone, right?

There’s something else. I need your bra’s!!  Yep, YOUR bra!.  A new one, an old one, a used one (you know, the ones that have gone a bit grey in the wash that you stuff to the back of the draw as a last chance saloon, yeah, that one).  Any bra.  I’ve not yet figured out the best way to get the bra’s from you but bear with me…details to follow.  Your bra will then be a very important link in a very important world record chain to break breast cancer!

In your post, it would be great if you could:

♥ Link back to Dirty Laundry and Breakthrough Breast Cancer (and Tea&Biscotti if you’re feeling generous!)

♥ Tell us what your boobs mean to you

♥ Tell us about your bra’s: with bra? without bra? big bra? small bra? matching bra? not matching bra? You get the picture!

♥ You could even take a picture of the bra you are going to donate!

♥ And finally, make sure you upload it to the linky so that everyone can get familiar with your coconuts!

♥ Feel free to use (copy) the very bad example of a badge that I made (above) – (sorry, it was a very shoddy effort)

Admit it, fewer things in life feel better than taking your bra off at the end of a long day!

You heard it here first… BRAVellous….coming soon to a blog near you!

X-O-X

Related Articles:

Mother Knows Breast #1

Mother Knows Breast #2

Mother Knows Breast #3

The C Word

*Picture credits to www.victoriasecrets.com via Pinterest.

 
16 Comments

Posted by on May 7, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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Put a Sock In It Woman!

Being a new mummy is fantastic.  There are no words to describe the emotion of holding your baby in your arms for the first time.  How many hours have I whiled away just watching her breath and sleep? It is truly an amazing experience and each day delivers a new surprise.

However, it does have its drawbacks.  In those early days it was a good day if I was dressed before noon.  It was a great day if I had managed to blow dry my hair. It was a fantastic day if I had managed to do both of those and put make up on!

In the first month there were days that I hardly new my own name yet I always managed to at least wash my face, brush my teeth and attempt to make my hair look tidy.

So you can imagine the utter shock when I witnessed this today!!

There are no excuses! No newborn baby, no extreme exhaustion or sleep deprivation will EVER be an excuse for leaving the house like this.  Why didn’t she reach for a hair bobble, a clip, a slide, a clamp, even a scrunchie??  How could a woman leave her house with her straggly wet hair held back off her face with a mans terry towelling white sport sock!!!!! She is what Gok Wan dreams of!

Its not the best picture but I was almost trampled on amidst the commuters to at least get this shot.  Be grateful for the proof.

Lady…  seriously… words fail me!

A sock? seriously?

 
2 Comments

Posted by on March 20, 2012 in London

 

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